The Collected Letters, Volume 30

Indeed, indeed, dear Lady, it never entered into “the imaginating of the thoughts of my heart,” that at such time of year
and on so short a stay, you might, could, would, or should, have driven down to Chelsea! Far from that, I did not even find it permissible to seek to see you at Bath House on that ‘one day’; tho' I had already walked to the end
of Bolton Street1 in the course of making up my mind, whether I might ask to see you or had best not.

“There is no chance of our coming to the Grange?”—Isn't there?”! I was fearing something quite different; that there was no chance of our being invited. I don't think Mr C's staying sulking at home last winter, turned out so well for him, body or soul, that he should ever again “take that line”
(your phrase) as long as he lives. Even if there weren't a book in the House, he would go this year, I am sure, if only you were so goodnatured as to invite him— As for me, it was no illusion on the advantages of giving up the only bit of cheerful life that the year brought round for us, and ‘sticking to one's work’ in grim silence
at home— I did not need to miss our visit for the next twelve months, to make me know what I had gone and done!— I knew it perfectly well at the time— But
it was all but impossible for me to go last year, under the circumstances.

I saw Mrs Brookfield three days ago—looking lovely in a new bonnet with large blue flowers, she had just been to get the character
of a cook—the one who was having hysterics in their house last May, on account of her Husbands death in the Crimea, being
now to marry another soldier! I will call today and tell Mrs Brookfield your words about a shawl—

Poor little Mrs Twislton has been suffering agonies from acute rheumatism—caught at sea on their return from America2— She is now out of bed on a couch in her bedroom, He was so upset by the sight of her sufferings that he actually blasphemed a little, in my own hearing!

Mrs Wedgwood took me last night to hear Lord John lecture in Exeter Hall—and a horrid headach is what I have gained by it— Certainly
if Lord John aint particular about the quality of praise he must have had quantity last night to his heart's content— Thousands of young shopmen and shop-women frantically
beating with their hands and feet—till their faces were wet with the exertion— I missed much of the lecture, being far off,
and Lord John's voice of the feeblest; but what I did hear was only remarkable for its insipidity—good gracious!—if Mr C had been there, I am confident, he would have shied something at the little man, when HE was putting down Dr Johnson, for saying “The Magistrate had a right to persecute and the holder of truth a right to suffer”— It was more of a
sermon than a lecture—but what I found most curious; every time his Lordship named “christ,” which was very often, the House thundered applause so loud and long and obstreperous that I expected it always to end in
“hip hip hurrah”!— Was it surprise and admiration that a Lord should have heard of christ? Or what was it that set their hands a clapping and feet thumping at that name? One time Lord
John had said something very complimentary to Christ, and the applause began—but I heard one man cry ‘order’—‘order’—and another
‘no! no’—3

We were waiting at the door for the carriage when Lord John, with his wife4 on his arm passed out— They were looking as happy as two little children— There were cries of “he's coming! he's coming!”—and the people in the long passage fell back on each side leaving the way clear to the pair—whom they testified their adoration
for in a sort of loud purring— But one man, bolder than the rest—(a cheese monger by look) perfectly perspiring with enthusiasm, called out “Thank you!— Thank you Lord John! for—for—the Lecture.” Lord John nodded kindly to him, and said “thank you—for your —” I lost the last word in the hurrahs that recommenced at the sound of his voice— “Oh my! How expensive!”5 as “white whiskers”6 remarked on the Virgin & Child

2. She had returned in Oct. with her sister Elisabeth Dwight (1830–1901), who was to stay for a year. Elisabeth wrote to her sister Mary Parkman (b. Dwight), 8 Nov.; “Mrs Carlisle has been since I wrote and made Ellen a delightful visit, & staid to lunch, so that I heard her talk both
to Ellen & Edward & she seemed to me the most entertaining person I ever heard talk, in her style, which is story-telling.
She could write a modern Arabian nights.—Her talk was almost entirely about people, mostly those that I didn't know, & if
she had sketched them on the wall they could not have been more graphically represented than in her broad Scotch accent.—She
was very kind to me, kissed me when she went away, & said I must come with Ellen to see her when Ellen was well.” In another
letter, 16 Nov., she wrote that JWC had visited and she “was as entertaining as one of Thackeray's novels & much in the same style” (MS:
Houghton Lib., Harvard Univ., 45M-98).

3. The Times reported Russell's lecture, 14 Nov., organized by the YMCA, on the “Obstacles which have retarded moral and political progress.” According to the Times, Russell argued that the main obstacle was govts.' suppression of enquiry, that Johnson was wrong when he said that magistrates,
even when they were morally and theologically wrong, were politically right and had a duty to suppress opinions they thought
dangerous (Boswell's Life of Johnson 2:249–50); history has taught us that suppression creates social instability and impedes progress. He said that not just
govts., but people themselves have obstructed progress by their own vices, but the rules of Christian morality, which “give
each man liberty but place on each man restraint,” were enough to guide humanity. By them “conformity in a spirit of kindness”
is attainable even if conformity of belief is not. See also Journal, 13 Nov.